


Turnaround

by Eclectic_Goddess



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Jealousy, Movie Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1497709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eclectic_Goddess/pseuds/Eclectic_Goddess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roque thought about it sometimes…pointing a gun at Clay and pulling the trigger.  A quiet, superstitious part of him wondered if the bullet wouldn’t just pass right through him, or bounce off, or vanish into thin air.  Someday, maybe, he’d find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turnaround

**Author's Note:**

> Written June 2010, and previously posted on Livejournal.

It was Roque, not Emma, who put the bomb in Clay’s car. Emma probably would have done it eventually, could have done it. She certainly had the means and the motive. It was just that Roque had the opportunity, and he got there first. Roque hadn’t been trying to kill Clay, exactly. He was just trying to make a point.

Damn Clay and his women. He never fucking learned. He just let life lead him around by the dick and then bitched when it yanked too hard. A lesser man would be dead or worse by now, but Clay wasn’t a lesser man. For all his idealism and nobility, Clay was as hard as they came. Maybe that was what pissed Roque off so much.

Once, before Clay had become a colonel, and before he’d become a captain, Roque had taken a piece of grenade shrapnel to the face. Clay had organized their squad’s withdrawal and then carried his ass over ten klics to their pickup location. Enemy soldiers took shots at them the entire way, but somehow, Clay had managed to dodge every bullet.

He was still dodging them. Roque thought about it sometimes…pointing a gun at Clay and pulling the trigger. A quiet, superstitious part of him wondered if the bullet wouldn’t just pass right through him, or bounce off, or vanish into thin air. Someday, maybe, he’d find out.

When Clay was given his own Operational Detachment Alpha, he’d offered Roque a promotion, second in command. Roque wasn’t likely to see a promotion any other way, so he took it. They would mostly be working off the books and under the radar, and that had certain profitable appeal. Roque didn’t work particularly well with others, but he got used to the rest of the team. Hell, he even came to like some of them.

Except for Jensen. Roque sometimes dreamed about slipping up on Jensen in the night and sliding a knife between his ribs, and he always woke up smiling.

Everything had been going great until they ran into Max. Max fucked them, hard. Roque just wanted to get home, to get to his stash and then vanish, but Clay had other ideas. Clay and his overburdened sense of duty. They had lost almost everything, and he seemed determined that they throw away the little they had left to see that justice prevail. Fuck justice.

Then Aisha came along, and Roque knew from the moment he laid eyes on her that she’d fuck them harder than Max ever had, right after she was done with Clay.

But Clay wouldn’t listen. He’d stopped listening so long ago that Roque sometimes wondered if he ever really had. Maybe he’d just been pretending to listen, and Roque hadn’t noticed that he was going ignored because he was too busy raking in the cash and blowing shit up and trying not to get shot in the back.

Roque had always thought of himself as a pragmatist, the realist. Clay was the noble one. He had some grand plan to clear their names and bring down Max, but Roque couldn’t see it. He figured there were two ways out of this. One, he could get dead along with the rest of them. Two, he could make a deal.

He made the deal.

 

THE END


End file.
